You Won't Be Mine
by Yui-Mag
Summary: Karofsky's comfortable in the mold that's created for those who fit the norm... but he knows he's simply hiding there and that sooner than later, he's gonna mess up and everyone will see how he really doesn't fit that mold...


Disclaimer – Lyrics are from the song "You Won't Be Mine" by Matchbox Twenty. Glee characters are not my own.

You Won't Be Mine

Karofsky's usual lumbering gait slowed, head slightly caulked to one side, his usual frown furrowing his brow and making him look menacing to students who scampered by him. They didn't stay long enough to see that he paused by a door, staying out of view as the hall became deserted now that the last bell had rung minutes before and school buses were just raring to go.

They didn't want to stay. They didn't want to have his attention focused on them and pitied whoever had his attention. And so they hurried away, books clutched to their chests without sparing a glance towards him and missed seeing as his frown melted into something else entirely.

Rather than the usual anger or scorn, the frown trembled into several other emotions they probably would have never guessed this bully could feel.

_ Take your head around the world,_

_ See what you get_ _from your mind…_

Karofsky stood pressed against the wall, letting his head fall against it as well, leaning there so he could feel each ridge and bump of the imperfectly painted bricks holding him up. If he turned his head just slightly, he'd see the teen who'd been plaguing him for months now. The boy didn't know he was being watched, didn't know that Karofsky had already memorized the way he sat and held himself before the piano… nor the way he looked when he began to play. That little expression, the little curl of the lips as he got lost in the music… the way his hair would fall into his face and for once would remain there rather than be swept to the side and in its proper place with that usual sweep of a motion with those pale delicate looking hands. Those hands with their perfectly manicured nails that were currently pressing down gently on ivory keys, weaving a pattern that Karofsky wouldn't have been able to follow even if he'd tried.

So no, the boy didn't know and Karofsky liked it that way. It was safer. He simply stayed outside of the room, at a vantage point where he could see if he chose to turn his head… where he could hear clearly, what it was that Kurt Hummel would choose to play this time around but where _he _himself could not be seen.

He needed to go undetected.

He needed to…

And since he had Kurt Hummel memorized…Karofsky took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, letting the melody reach him and move him for a couple more heartbeats before he needed to move away.

Before he needed to get to practice, get to that sweaty smelly locker room full of testosterone and bantering that veered on bullying and that awfully heavy load of peer pressure to be "manly" and be the "best" and be that "football player" that every parent dreamed their son would be.

There was no place for Kurt Hummel there.

There was no place for that sickening fluttering feeling he got in his stomach when he saw Kurt Hummel.

There was no place for that even worse feeling of fear that had settled around every inch of him ever since he'd seen Kurt Hummel…noticed him… in a way that he shouldn't have.

Not if he'd been normal.

_ Write your soul down word for word,_

_ See who's your friend…_

_Who is kind?_

Karofksy knew what his friends would say if they ever caught on, if they ever sniffed out the fact that he wasn't as normal as he played himself up to be. He'd heard the words, had spoken them out loud and brandished them against others like weapons.

He'd pushed and shoved, picked up and thrown, …even given facial slushies to those who didn't quite fit in to that mold that someone along the way had chosen as the "superior", "normal" mold. And though deep inside he knew he didn't belong in that mold… as long as no one knew… no one could remove him from crouching inside of it, reveling in the bit of strength and power he gained there.

It was the only time, hidden in that mold, that he felt like he was okay. And even then, that feeling was fleeting.

When Azimio wasn't walking along side him, feeding him the lines and forcing his mind to remember the overplayed steps … even the mold couldn't completely stop the niggling fear.

The knowledge that he didn't belong and that one day it would come out.

Maybe it would come with someone catching him staring too long…

Maybe it would be the disgust finally creeping up on his expression when he was supposed to be leering and ogling and flirting a girl…

Maybe it would be with someone seeing him pausing near that music room door whenever _he_ played there…

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

He didn't know when he'd trip up or what exactly would trip him up… just knew the who that would trip him up…

Karofksy couldn't help himself as his eyes moved without his permission, catching one last glimpse of the pale boy and unconsciously he licked his lips before shoving himself away.

_ Well, it's almost like a disease…_

The tightening in his chest and stomach was uncomfortable… He felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. Everyday it got that much worse.

In the beginning, Kurt Hummel had just been a name, a face, a body that had been pointed out to him by his friends because the guy had been too thin and too effeminate. With skin like porcelain and hair always in place and clothes that belonged on a runway - not in the middle of a public high school in Lima, Ohio.

They called him gay but there hadn't been proof that the kid swung that way even though everything about him screamed it. And Karofsky could ignore him. Somewhat. He tried not to think too much about how soft his skin was under his hands when he picked him up to throw him into a dumpster or how underneath all that soft skin was coiled tension in muscles that were hidden away in that lean body. He tried not to think too much about how easy it was to lift the guy. He tried not to think too much about the way he smelled or the coolness of the skin against his that was always hot to the touch.

He tried not to think at all.

Because if he did, he'd have to wonder about why he noticed all of this.

Instead he focused on Azimio's words and Puck's. And the laughter and horseplay that came with being with the guys. He also ignored the weird pit in his stomach that had come about when he noticed that the Hummel kid was suddenly always hanging around this one girl in school.

Gay or not, it didn't matter. The guy was still freaking weird.

But then it did matter because Kurt Hummel was gay. He'd outed himself, came out to the entire school and didn't seem too worried about what anyone would say or think. Although to be fair, all the words had already been said and all the thoughts had already been thought.

And the weird feeling in his stomach at seeing Kurt Hummel with that Mercedes chick was nothing, _nothing_, with the feeling that coursed through him then.

He wanted to believe that it was disgust. And that the fear he felt had more to do with fear of contagion or that Kurt Hummel would turn those big blue eyes and check him out than the knowledge that he and Kurt Hummel were more alike than he ever wanted them to be. And that he wanted those blue eyes on him. Seeing him. Watching him.

Like he'd been watching.

_ I know soon you will be over the lies_

The bullying increased. It wasn't targeted towards Glee club members like before. It was just him. And there was a rage and an urgency behind it that upped the intensity. They'd always been careful to not hurt him… beyond wounded pride and trashed outfits…but now it was like he wasn't human anymore. At least to the others that's what it seemed like.

He was gay so they didn't have to care.

To Karofsky it was the opposite. Kurt Hummel was gay and he cared a bit too much. It made him angry. So he shoved harder, wishing that with every physical gesture, with every hurled insult and mumbled threat, that he'd somehow manage to put Kurt back in the closet and out of his mind.

Why couldn't Kurt just fit the mold? Why couldn't he just stay there and be happy?

Why did he have to be so strong, when he himself was such a coward?

_You'll be strong_

_ You'll be rich in love_

_ And you will carry on_

The guy was driving him crazy. Even when he didn't see him it was like he was there… behind his closed eyes, he'd see him, smell him, taste him.

See that smile – without the tension around his mouth – when he was playing a song on the piano when he thought he was alone. Or that other smile, the one that was tinged with just the right amount of disdain as he would glare back at Azimio and him, refusing to be broken. Or there was the one that he'd give only to Mercedes. Full of affection and sweetness. And there was also the one that he had when he was being playful or overly excited about some new designer or outfit he'd spotted in those ridiculously girly magazines.

God. The way his eyes were colored and the way they'd change and express every emotion so clearly and in ways that always, _always_ took his breath away.

It didn't matter if Karofsky closed his eyes. It didn't matter if he pushed the guy away, tried to scare him senseless.

Nothing worked.

At night, alone in his bedroom where he no longer had to act like he fit the mold, his mind would take over and show him things, made him feel everything that he'd been denying for months. It caused him to lose sleep, lose his appetite and he just felt so sick over all of it.

What was worse somehow in all of this, was the knowing that Kurt Hummel was right. They were all just ignorant, scared little boys. They probably would end up working for him… or just… lose him completely. Because how in the hell would someone like Kurt ever stay in a place like Lima, Ohio.

_But no, oh no…_

_ No…you won't be mine_

Sometimes he wished time would fast forward to that distant future. To no longer have Kurt in his life, to have to deal with him and what his mere presence did to him. Yet whenever he tried to imagine it, he'd freeze and that awful clawing sensation in the pit of his stomach would only grow until he wanted to double over and curl up on the ground… hide his head under a pillow and feign sickness and oh god, if only he could be a child again.

Things had been so much more simple then.

_ Take your straight line for a curve_

_Make it stretch_

_ The same old line…_

He'd finally hit a breaking point. At first he thought it was Kurt's he'd reached. He'd never seen Kurt this riled up. Eyes glaring at him intensely and unafraid and god, the guy was yelling at him and telling him off for all he was worth and in the heat of that moment, he was finally able to forget that he wasn't supposed to feel this way. That he wasn't supposed to notice Kurt's eyes or lips or skin or the sound of his voice or the way his clothes hugged his trim figure. He forgot himself. Or who he was playing. He was simply there, lost in the moment and seeing Kurt stand up to him being so unafraid made him forget his own fear.

For a heartbeat.

And then the words hit him. And the words were a blow. Kurt had gotten devastatingly good at using words like weapons, carving people to size under his sharp tongue…

And he'd known. He'd always known that Kurt would never look at him. Never see him as such… but to hear it… Again, that feeling of being unable to breath, of suffocating endlessly, and that fear, always that crippling fear…

He would always be alone, drowning, with no one to hear him or to understand… except… those blue eyes were watching him, looking straight at him and…

He'd moved before anything else could catch up with the movement and then Kurt's lips were under his, pliant out of pure shock – his mind would fill him in later – but in that moment it felt like a gift. Like a lifeline and there was a small desperate part of him that was chanting…maybe I can prove him wrong, I can make him see, I can make him want me...he's gay, I'm a guy. I'm a… Please want me. Please, please, please want me. Don't leave me all alone. Please…

Two hands he'd always admired came and planted themselves onto his chest and shoved him off hard.

Illusions die hard. Dreams die harder. He'd always known his would.

And if the fear had been bad before…

He turned around and ran in vain childish hope that if he ran fast enough it would never be able to catch up with him.

Turns out… running only makes it that much worse.

_ Try to find if it was worth what you spent_

_Why you're guilty for the way you're feeling now?_

It was his breaking point he'd reached. He'd outed himself, cast himself out of the mold and now he was desperately trying to make his way back in and was floundering when he didn't feel safe there either.

It was just a question of time now.

The ticking clock seemed to agree with him, ticking away the seconds loudly in his head. It was driving him mad.

He didn't know who he was anymore. Just knew what he didn't want, what he wanted but couldn't have but even what he wanted… he didn't… he didn't want the rest of what would come with it…

That prep rich kid that faced him with Kurt the next couple days was patronizing with his sympathy…with his white knight in shining armor get up. And wasn't it just so fucking sad? Sad that he couldn't even properly reach that anger he wished he could tap in to go after them and rip them to shreds like the sight of them was doing to him.

No.

All of what was left in him was that mindless fear.

Tick – tock… one more person knew and could so easily pull him kicking and screaming out of the mold.

Tick – fucking – tock…

He went all out against Kurt then until the boy was gone. Just like he'd thought, predicted, hoped for, and wished against.

And he'd been the one to drive him out.

_ It's almost like being free…_

_ And I know soon you will be._

New Directions didn't know it, fuck… Azimio didn't know it. But he still walked down the hallway towards the music room when everyone was heading for the buses. He'd walk and pause at the doorway and glance in, breathing uneven and heart in his throat as it continued to remain empty.

_Take yourself out to the curb_

_ Sit and wait._

_ A fool for life…_

He'd stare for a moment or two, his mind lending him the power of imagination and memory until he could hear notes being played from pale white hands, a gentle voice singing lyrics that would pass through those red soft lips…

_It's almost like a disease_

_ I know soon you will be…_

…_free_

And as he'd walk away, head bowed, his eyes would see that lean boy that still haunted him – those blue eyes wide and staring at him in terror – before shaking himself free and reminding himself.

Kurt was fine.

Kurt was happier now.

Because he'd opened the freaking bird cage… and now Kurt was free.

_The End_


End file.
